


TubSluts™️

by TheMouthKing



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Daddy Kink, Exhibitionism, Financial Domination, Link Neal's bigass tub in front of a bigass window, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex, Roleplay, but also a little bit actual sex for money, obscene phone call, pretend cam boy Link, pretend sex for money
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:55:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21915259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMouthKing/pseuds/TheMouthKing
Summary: Rhett and Link have been exploring this new facet of their relationship for a while now. One night, when they're both in their respective homes, Link has something a little different in mind when he FaceTimes Rhett from his tub.
Relationships: Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Comments: 29
Kudos: 99
Collections: Mythical Secret Santa 2019





	TubSluts™️

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MythicalCatie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythicalCatie/gifts).

> In this fic I am making the bathroom work for my own ends. Idk what the tub really looks like and I don't care, but here, it’s more of a statement built in than a standalone tub, so that there’s a little platformy shelf on all sides, for reasons. Also it’s huge. PS. When you get money on Venmo, you get a nifty little text and if someone left a message as they sent you money, the text tacks that message onto the end. These are relevant details. ;)
> 
> Credit to @soho-x of tumblr for a suggestion that helped me greatly, and to @killthenaughtyboy of tumblr for her work as my master beta.

**RhettMC**

You alone?

Yeah why?

Alone alone?

**Read** 10:47 PM

Yeah man. Kids are in bed and you know Jessie’s out of town cause she’s with Christy. What’s up?

——

Rhett’s phone rings with the tell-tale chirp of a FaceTime call. What swims into view as the call connects is not at all what he’s expecting, not even given the recent _developments_ in their friendship, the sexual nature it’s taken on any time they can steal a few hours away together these last few months. 

_Now_, though, the book is out, they’re on the bestseller list, they’re wrapping up this season of Ear Biscuits and soon after, of GMM, and Link can’t stop freaking talking about the windows in his bathroom. Rhett’s about to find out why first hand. 

Rhett sees a vertical shot of Link’s tub and the glass walled shower beyond it, and for a second he’s confused. The phone must be propped up on the edge of the tub, and he hears a soft mechanical whir and then there’s movement. The blinds to the left are going up, and from outside comes a soft glow of street lights. Soon, Link is moving into the frame, naked body from the waist down. He’s climbing into the tub none too quickly, taking his time before he sinks down into the clear water. The blinds were all the way up long before Link had settled down.

“I thought you said you ran over from the switch.” Rhett’s trying real hard not to give Link the satisfaction of getting riled up. 

“Hm?” Link asks, playing dumb. 

Rhett just lets out a breath he’d been holding and tries to let his slight irritation go in favor of appreciating the way the water is lapping at his chest from the motion of him getting in and settling down. 

“Didn’t you say you took bubble baths?” Rhett asks. He’s not quite sure what’s going on here, but he can tell the direction it’s headed, based on the _are you alone?_ and Link’s nudity here. Or at least, he’s hoping this is going in that direction.

“I dunno what’cher talkin’ ‘bout,” Link answers as he sinks down a little lower, hands and arms under the water, exposed from the nipples up only. His collarbones are so sinfully cast into shadow in this light that Rhett wonders if he’d dimmed the bathroom lights before he’d called. 

“_Link_,” Rhett says his name with so much behind it. In that single word, he’s telling him to cut the crap, asking him what the hell is going on, asking for some kind of primer into the game they’re playing so he can get on board fully and not feel dicked around. Y’know, before he gets dicked around in a way they both get off on.

“Who’s Link?” Link runs a wet hand through his graying hair, trying to hide a devilish little grin. 

“Link, seriously.”

“Welcome to TubSluts™️, my name is Charles, and I’ll be your TubSlut™️ for today…” He’s doing his best not to laugh as he sets the scene, but he can’t entirely keep the grin out of the expression in his eyes. 

“Oh, ho ho—_hoohoo,_” Rhett’s laugh gets away from him a little and he’s clapping his hand over his mouth to keep from getting too loud. He’s alone in his bedroom with the door shut, and it’s late enough the kids are either definitely asleep or definitely not coming looking for him, but he still doesn’t want to get too loud. 

“Tub sluts, right… you know, I forgot I ordered,” ordered? “—called for a tub slut.”

“TubSluts™️,” Link corrects him, saying the exact same thing but something entirely different at the same time. “It’s trademarked.”

“...right, yeah. Of course.” Fuck, Link is so stupid. Stupid, and way too pretty for his own damn good. Rhett can’t wipe the overly fond grin off his face long enough to take him even remotely seriously.

“Listen, sugar, you’re on the clock. Do you have any requests?” Link asks as he settles back against the pillow at the head of his tub and lifts a leg out of the water, calf resting on the edge of the tub, heel hooking over it. Even through the FaceTime video, Rhett can tell he’d shaved. 

“Mmm… well it’s kinda hard to see what’s going on under the surface. Maybe you could move a bit so I can get a good look?”

“What makes you think something’s going on under the surface?” 

To his point, both of Link’s arms are up, resting on the sides of the tub. Right up until he pushes back with that borderline-bratty question. That’s when he lets his left arm drop down below the surface, and there’s a tell-tale wake around his upper arm that suggests that _now_, anyway, there is definitely something going on under the surface of the water.

“That.”

“What?”

“_That_. L-Charles...”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific, Mr. …?”

Oh. Oh, is Charles supposed to be a younger man? What kind of game are they playing? He tries to slot in another of their favorite bedroom games by answering “Daddy.”

“Mr. Daddy.”

Fuck, he’s at least a half-step behind every step of the way, here, distracted as he is watching whatever it is Link’s doing under the water. He can almost see enough through the clear, bubble-less water to sort of tell, but it’s nowhere near enough. To think that Rhett was in control here was to make a grave mistake, that’s becoming clear enough as Link presses on being willfully dense in order to maintain the upper hand.

“Mm-nn,” he shakes his head no, “McLaughlin.”

“Mr. Daddy McLaughlin.” 

Now Link’s just fucking with him.

Rhett lets out a breath through his nose, a frustrated sound, rolls his eyes, and tries to just let it go. 

“Your arm… the way your arm’s moving. The water… looks like you’ve got something under there.”

Link glances down the length of his body, clearly sees his cock in his hand under the water, and then grins back up at the phone, fully aware of exactly how he looked at that moment. 

“Well, would you look at that… that it does.”

Link initiated what Rhett expected to be a dirty phone call, but so far the most obscene thing he’d done was sit down in the tub, those few seconds he’d been able to see his naked body taking up the screen, and he was more than anxious to get to the show he was being teased and promised.

“I want to see you.” Rhett’s learned by now that when Link is playing like this, the easiest way to get what he wants is just to ask for it. 

“What do you wanna see, Daddy?” He’s dropped the joke of _Mr. _and _McLaughlin_, which tells Rhett he’s getting warmer, starting to figure out the game he wants to play. That’s something. 

“I wanna see you touching yourself.” Apparently he has to be really fucking crystal clear tonight.

“Ten bucks.”

“What?”

Link manages to act just a little bit put out and still flirty at the same time, like this isn’t the first time one of his private shows hadn’t read the fine print.

“You’re paying by the minute for _access_, but if you’ve got requests, that’s always extra.”

Rhett blinks at the phone. Paying by the minute for access. Requests are extra. Is Link being serious right now? Does he want him to just pretend-pay him or is he waiting for him to freaking Venmo him ten bucks before he shows him his dick? Link offers clarification before Rhett gets the chance to ask.

“C’mon, Daddy, you know my Venmo...” There’s a few seconds pause, his arm still moving beneath the water. A soft moan. “...better hurry before it’s too late.”

He’d ask him if he was serious, but instead, against his better judgment (and very much fueled by that moan and the desire to see more of him), he flicks back to the home screen and searches for the Venmo app and brings it up. Link was top in his most recent transactions, the $20 he’d sent him the other day to cover his half of lunch they’d ordered in with the taco emoji and a green heart attached. Now, Rhett clicks his name and taps in to send him $10, no emojis or notes included.

Link’s eyes focus on the phone screen a few seconds later as the notification appears at the top of his screen (_Rhett McLaughlin paid you $10.00.) _and a slow smile stretches across his face. His expression is a mix of amused triumph and vaguely surprised arousal. Link was finding things out about himself here while they played, exploring this new game together. 

“Thank you, Daddy…” 

Rhett doesn’t know what it is he was expecting to happen next, but it wasn’t this. It wasn’t Link shifting around in the tub so he was floating just below the surface, so the water pooled and moved over his flat, toned belly, so that his nipples grazed the surface and emerged like islands. It sure as hell wasn’t watching as Link settled himself stretched between both edges of the tub, head and feet helping keep him anchored. All that Rhett was really taking in though was the way the water clung to his body, the way his hand came out to curl around his cock, give a slow stroke.

Link’s the one putting on a show, but he’s watching too. He’s watching the way Rhett’s staring, how his video goes jumpy, blurs like the phone is in motion, less cautious about how he’s holding it. Like he’s more worried about getting his hand on his own dick than he is about keeping the phone steady. 

That’s a point for Link, if they’re keeping score. 

All of Rhett that Link can see is his face, his chest. He’s not wearing a shirt and Link doesn’t need to wonder to know that he’s naked from the waist down, too. That in his bedroom, this late at night, he’s never wearing even boxers to bed. 

“Are you touching yourself too, Daddy?” Link asks, shifting how he’s got his feet so he’s steadier, so he can spare his other hand to tease up his belly and back down, coming to rest against his hip and thigh like his sole purpose was showing himself off. Draw attention to the fact that he’d shaved more than just his legs.

“Yeah.” Rhett’s voice is rougher than it often is, hungry. This is a new game for them, having distance, Rhett not being able to see or touch what he wants to. After years of skirting the issue, once they’d broken the seal on the new development in their relationship, there hadn’t been room for holding back. This was the first time since they’d begun that there was any measure of withholding, and not being able to have all of Link that he wants wasn’t something that Rhett was good at tolerating. 

“I’m thinking about what you might do if you were here,” Link teases, that spare hand skirting its way back up his chest to his nipple, gives a gentle pinch as the hand on his cock squeezes in kind, strokes slow.

“Yeah, so am I.”

Rhett sounds distracted. Link’s a distance from the phone, the full length of his body away, but even from this distance he could see the continued shake of the image giving away the fact that while Link is touching himself slow and methodical, Rhett’s jerking himself fast. Through it all, his eyes maintain focus on the screen, watching everything Link’s doing, like a lifeline — like a personalized porno that he can’t fast forward to get to the good parts. 

“...what would you do?” Link asks. He’s toeing the line between leading and following, between being the object and the subject. He’s putting on a show, but he’s in the driver’s seat and they both know it.

“I’d haul you out of that tub and fuck your ass in full view of that stupid fucking window,” Rhett says it in a rush of air like it was something he’d been holding onto, something he’d been waiting to let out. “Show your neighbor who that ass belongs to.”

The reaction Link has to that is instantaneous and twofold. The image of it, of being claimed like that, manhandled, that _does something _to him and it jumps his hand on his dick, quickly enough that he’s creating wake with his movements. But at the same time, he lets himself sink a little bit beneath the surface, chest disappearing from view with the lower half of his face to try to hide the mixed reaction, the devilish smirk that’s warring with the flush of arousal that’s taking over his skin. Rhett thinks he owns his ass? Well, alright then.

“Oh, fuck yeah, Daddy…” Link murmurs as he surfaces, fist moving over his cock. It’s the wrong kind of wet, water wet not slick and it means jerking it isn’t easy but the way he’s feeling right now, he doesn’t quite mind. “I want that too…”

If Link knows Rhett, which he does, and if he were a gambling man, which he’s not, he’d bet a lot of money that before the weekend’s over, Rhett’s going to _finally_ come over and experience his freshly remodeled bathroom first hand.

“I wanna see your ass,” Rhett blurts out, getting into this. It shouldn’t be quite this easy to fall into the role of dirty old pervert hiring some camboy to cater to his whims, but here they are, and it is easy. It’s easy because it’s _Link_ and Rhett’s an absolute sucker for the way he gets when he goes into slut mode, when he goes easy and boneless and filthy as fuck.

“Okay, that’s another ten.”

Is he _serious right now._ Rhett would say something, he would, because horny as he is right now, he doesn’t wanna be flipping away from FaceTime to be doing anything, but he knows Link well enough to know that just doing the thing is easier than arguing with him once they’re in the middle of a game. He flicks into Venmo and back as fast as humanly possible, and he catches the exact moment that Link sees the notification because it tugs a wide grin across his face, like triumph.

_Rhett McLaughlin paid you $10.00 come ON._

“Oh, thank you, Daddy. Mmm…” Link bites his lip as he gives himself one last, deliciously not-enough stroke and then lets go. Lets himself sink back down beneath the surface, feet gone from view as he rearranges himself so he can flip over. 

Turning from the camera, he gets his legs back under him kneeling and leans out of the tub enough that his cheeks are exposed to the camera. Very technically, he’s showing Rhett his ass, but he knows damned well this isn’t what he’d wanted to see. Still, he makes a good show of it, wagging his ass a little to be showy and he grins back over his shoulder at the phone.

Rhett can’t believe what a little shit Link is, answering his request to the letter but not the spirit.

“That wasn’t what I meant and you know it.”

“What do you mean?”

Link leans on the innocent tone so hard it’s absolutely infuriating and goes right to his dick. He wants to fuck it right out of him, dear _God_.

“Your asshole.” Rhett has to say it, has to lay it out there crystal clear, and he doesn’t need to look in the tiny rectangle of his own viewfinder to know that he’s gone ruddy for having done so. It apparently doesn’t matter all of the in person things he’s done with Link that are, comparatively, far worse than this — somehow this has him standing squarely between ashamed and aroused. 

“Ohh… well, that’ll be twenty, then.”

Link says it so flippantly that Rhett could scream. He watches the screen as Rhett’s eyes glaze over and shift, an obvious tell that he’s flipped apps again and is furiously tapping the screen, one-handedly sending Link another twenty — unwilling to try and figure out if Link meant that it’d be another twenty or just that it’d be twenty total. It’s easier and faster to err on the side of more just for the gain of fewer interruptions. 

Link has to turn away from the screen to hide his gleeful grin when he sees the little text notification ping through, catches sight of _Rhett McLaughlin paid you $20.00 u little shit_.

This should have been thought through better, because to show Rhett what he wants to see, it’s going to be hard to get a peek back over his shoulder and watch the phone, but that isn’t diminishing Link’s experience one iota. He leans forward, chest on the edge of the tub and reaches back behind himself and grabs his cheeks and easily pries them apart, exposing his hairless, wet asshole to the cool bathroom air, to Rhett and, if he were out there and standing in the right spot, the poor, unfortunate man who lives next door to Link.

Link can’t see Rhett except for a glimpse as he twists, but he can hear the soft grunt from the speakers of his phone and a rising, tell-tale wet-slick sound. Rhett’s jerking off harder, faster, just at the sight of his ass and that’s a thrill Link hadn’t quite expected to experience. 

Link’s mind is full of images of exactly what Rhett would do if he were here, how he’d maneuver him where he wants him, how without the barrier of distance there wouldn’t be this prolonged tease. If Rhett were here they’d come together like a clap of thunder, like a cold front rolling in, like collision. Link can almost imagine it, can almost fill in the blanks, almost feel Rhett on and in him, using all that size difference for its best advantage and nailing him to the wall.

Link’s almost about to take one hand back in favor of touching himself again when he hears Rhett speak up, instructing him, “Fuck yourself on your fingers, Charles.”

Link almost forgot about the name, and hearing Rhett call him Charles hits hard on the tail end of that command, pulls a startled little moan from him as he looks back at the camera over his shoulder.

“That’s thirty, Daddy…”

“Are you fucking serious?” Rhett doesn’t want to flip away to pay him again. It’s not that it’s getting expensive, which it is, it’s just that he doesn’t want the interruption of it. Unfortunately, that’s the game that Link is playing, being paid for sex, for showing off, for putting on a show. Rhett leans into that aspect as he pushes back, tries to weedle his way out of this upcharge. “I’m paying you $4.50 a minute to watch you jerk off for me, plus ten bucks here and thirty there, when anyone outside that big-ass window gets to see it for free?”

Link’s eyes flick to the little screen, half-lidded and so blue even like this Rhett thinks it ought to be illegal, and he shrugs. He’s holding his ass open for Rhett’s viewing pleasure, and he’s shrugging his response like some flippant, disrespectful kid. 

“It didn’t stop you before now…” and then, after a pause, and perhaps against better judgment, “...nobody else has complained about the window, Daddy.”

No one else has complained. It’s a game, Rhett knows it’s a game, knows there’s no one else between the two of them but their wives and that everything’s all above board, but hearing that still stokes something possessive in him. 

_Rhett McLaughlin paid you $50.00 ur ass is mine._

Link would laugh if he wasn’t so fucking turned on. Hands fall away and he shifts, reaches over to the right corner of the tub platform and picks up a little bottle that was tucked in the corner with shampoos and body washes, and wastes no time in spreading some over the fingers of his left hand and reaching back to drag those slick fingers down between his cheeks. 

He’s keeping himself propped with his other arm, elbow against the edge of the tub, so he can look back over his shoulder. Keep an eye on the screen, watch the way the image jumps, Rhett obviously resting his phone hand against his chest while the other races on his cock. 

Rhett knows that the lube being nearby meant that this was a bigger plan than just dialing him up on a whim as he settled in for one of his twice quarterly baths, playing a character for a laugh. He’d planned this, but right now, Rhett doesn’t have the spare brainpower to sort it all out. That’ll come later. 

Link presses his middle finger inside himself, and after a moment and a stroke or two, he’s shifting, legs parting, so he can let a second follow the first.

“Fuck yeah.” 

Link can hear Rhett breathing hard and heavy, the soft gasps and sounds he makes as he chases his orgasm in earnest. He’s so familiar with the sound, with the pace he falls into in the last minutes and seconds that he can damn near feel it in his bones. In his mind, he’s imagining them fucking, thinking about the mess they’d make of the bathroom, the water they’d splash onto the floor like animals. 

Link’s fucking himself on his fingers, just like Rhett asked him to. It’s not enough, not quite enough to get off on, but that’s fine for now because he wants this to last just a little bit longer. He likes the feeling of it mixed up in the thrill of exhibition, of Rhett watching, of fingering his ass in full view of the window. It’s no secret that Link likes putting on a show, that he likes attention, and that doesn’t end when the cameras stop rolling in the studio.

“I want you to fuck me…” Link breathes, voice broken with need. 

It seems for a second like he’s so far gone he’s forgotten the game, hasn’t tacked on _Daddy_ and Rhett half-wonders if they’re beyond it now. If as they reach the final descent, if they get to drop the act.

“I want to,” Rhett almost growls and has to let his head fall back for a second, just to steel himself, just to breathe, and then he’s staring at the screen again, fixated on the sight of Link’s ass and thighs spread and open for him, and those fingers working in deep. Rhett’s doing his best to match the pace Link’s setting, needs to connect on that level, on the rhythm their bodies are vibrating to, since he can’t be there in person, behind him, inside him. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Rhett answers without hesitation and squeezes himself with one big hand, trying not to end everything right this second, wants to savor the moment just a little bit longer. “I wanna watch you come...”

Link’s breathless and bent over his tub, fucking himself at a fever pitch, and the very last thing Rhett’s expecting is for Link to lay out a price for admission to the last act of the show, but that’s exactly what he gets. 

“That’s fifty, Daddy…”

“Oh, for the love of— _fuck_,” Rhett’s cursing his way to Venmo, the image on the screen scrambling all over the place as Rhett loses his grip on the phone, has to stop jerking himself off entirely to get hold of it again. 

_Rhett McLaughlin paid you $100.00 cum 4 me u filthy slut._

Link twists to read the screen, and when he sees the message he can’t hide his satisfaction. He has no idea how much Rhett has paid him tonight altogether just to watch him cum, but it’s hot as hell. If they’re keeping score, this is the final point in the game and Link has definitely won. But truth be told, he’d been on top from the start. 

Things unravel fast from that point. Link takes his hand back and moves, turns around, sits up on the edge of the tub, leans back. His legs spread fast and easy to give Rhett the view he’d paid for and his hand, wet with lube from fingering himself, goes to his cock and _strokes._ Link groans, but this, it’s not enough. His free right hand finds the bottle, and he’s not careful about applying it, just squeezes more out over his glistening cock and tosses the bottle aside. 

Briefly, his right hand moves over himself, picking up lube more than jerking himself off, and soon enough he’s got his left hand wrapped around his cock and two fingers of his right fucking back inside himself and like this it’s a matter of time, like he’d lit a stick of dynamite and is waiting for the spark to hit the explosive. Rhett watching is fuel to the fire. The element of being paid, of selling himself, of being this openly and unrepentantly slutty is icing on the cake, it’s a mental aspect he’d never realized he liked quite this much until now, until they tried it.

“Ohfuck,” Link gasps, the wet, squelching of his fingers thrusting inside himself as filthy as the rhythmic sound his fist makes on his dick. “Daddy, I’m c-close…” 

“Come on come on come _on,” _Rhett encourages him urgently, needs it, needs to see it, needs to watch the way Link’s orgasm hits him, needs to see the way it starts in his thighs when he’s being fucked and takes him by surprise like he’d been hit by a freight train. 

It’s seconds before it starts, before that tell-tale tremble starts, thighs jumping like it’s too much. Rhett knows that in these last few moments Link needs a push, a steady hand to guide him through when it feels impossible to take. 

“You can do it, baby, do it for Daddy. You’re doing so good, you’re so close, baby, come on…” 

Link’s head falls back against the tiled wall with a groan and his hand slows on his cock for a moment, needs a reprieve, even with Rhett’s words of encouragement. It’s too much, he can’t.

“_Link_,” Rhett forgets he’s supposed to be Charles, losing touch with the game they’re supposed to be playing. “Don’t you dare stop, don’t you _fucking_ dare… look. Look at the screen, look, keep up.”

Link looks at the screen on the far end of the tub, watches as Rhett thumbs the button and flips the viewfinder so it’s using the rear facing camera instead of the front. Watches as Rhett’s thick cock swims into view, wrapped up in his big hand racing over the length of it at exactly the pace Link’s had been before he’d faltered. 

“_Oh,_” Link gasps and picks up, matches him again, fingers curling inside himself and it’s all over. It’s a wonder that Link ‘I can’t do two things at once’ Neal manages not to somehow fall into the tub, given how precariously on the edge he’s balanced. 

Rhett’s not far behind him, and Link has a front row seat for it, watches how it jerks in his hand as he comes. He can hear him, that heavy hard groan that tells Link he’d put a lot of effort into not coming sooner, that he’d delayed his gratification so he could watch Link get off first. Link wishes he’d been able to see his face instead of his cock, so that it wasn’t just in his imagination that he could see Rhett’s face twisting with that moment of pure bliss.

Link comes back to himself first, and as he does, he sinks back down into the tub, one hand rubbing at the mess he’d left on his stomach, washing it off in the water. On the other side of his orgasm, he’s already thinking through the list of _nexts_. He’s got to drain and clean out the tub, and then he needs a shower, because a bath is one thing until you’re adding mess to it, then you’re just bathing in filth. Which is fine, there’s a time and a place for things to get a little messy, but that’s part of the fun — getting so messy and then washing it all away and ending up so clean. 

Link leans forward and picks up the phone, watching as Rhett flips the picture back around to his face. He’s leaning back against a mass of pillows looking thoroughly spent. Link smiles as he takes in the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes where they crinkle when he laughs. He wishes he was there with him, laying in bed beside him, head against his chest.

“Thank you for calling TubSluts™️, please cum again.” 

With that, Link ends the call, wet hands clumsy on the touch screen. 

And Rhett is left laying there, phone in hand, staring at his home screen in absolute disbelief. _Did he just?_

It’s a full thirty seconds of being fully aghast before he’s dialing Link’s number up again because there’s no way in hell he’s leaving it at that. 

“Hello?” Link asks, innocent as can be, as if he hadn’t just put on a full camboy show for him. 

“Hello my ass, you owe me a hundred and ninety dollars.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for liking, commenting, and subscribing!


End file.
